


you'd be my favorite flavor

by Ceta



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternative Universe - Ice Cream Shop, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Victor is a Sweet Mess, Victuri Gift Exchange, server!Victor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-16 19:50:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13060971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceta/pseuds/Ceta
Summary: “I’m pretty sure he was talking about you,” Phichit tells him. “It’s not like a lot of dance majors go to Yakov’s, since most of them go to the place by the Fine Arts building, which is a lot closer to us, but they don’t offer ridiculous deals to hot dance majors named Katsuki Yuuri.”“He doesn’t- ““He does,” Phichit cuts in before Yuuri can deny the facts - and Phichit’s extensive experimenting - again. He finishes off his cone and smiles. “Face it, Yuuri. You’ve got yourself an Ice Daddy.”





	you'd be my favorite flavor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miio218](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miio218/gifts).



> Prompt: Ice cream shop au where Victor is a waiter and spoils Yuuri with ice creams bc he had a crush on him ??
> 
> Happy holidays!!

Victor checks his watch, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he sneaks increasingly unsubtle glances at the entrance. After the hundredth time he has to ask a customer what their order is, distracted as he is checking the door every time the bell jingles cheerily at someone’s entrance, Yuri Plisetsky, one of their newer recruits and Victor’s younger cousin, groans from behind him where he’s manning the ice cream machine.

 

“Someone stop him,” Yuri hisses not very quietly.

 

Mila, who’s in charge of showing Yuri the ropes, laughs. “The ice cream is going to fall over if you don’t shut it off.”

 

“My ears are going to fall off if I have to hear him sigh one more time,” Yuri shoots back, but Victor hears the tell-tale clank of the switch being flipped, and the whirring ceases. “Here. Can I go on break now? Before  _ he  _ shows up and Victor goes all gross?” Mila makes a thoughtful noise, and Yuri is quick to amend his question: “No, nevermind. I  _ am  _ going on break now. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

 

Before anyone can say anything, Yuri is slipping into the back room, untying his apron while muttering under his breath. Mila breathes out a huff of amusement as she sprinkles crushed nuts onto the cone, and calls, “Strawberry sugar cone with peanuts!”

 

A middle-aged woman hurries to the counter to grab her order, thanks Mila, then leaves. The bell jingles on her way out, and Victor can’t help but glance over anyway, hoping that someone else will walk in.

 

It’s not exactly quiet in the shop. There are lingering customers seated here and there, and the machines still whir even when they’re not in use, and Mila’s playlist sounds down from overhead, an instrumental tune that’s supposed to be “in season”. Victor leans against the counter and sighs, pressing his cheek against the heel of his palm, downtrodden. 

 

“Relax, Victor,” Mila tells him as she leans against the counter, too. “I’m sure he’s just running late. It’s not like this is the first time.”

 

It’s a slow day today, few customers breaking the long stretches of ennui, and Victor has a textbook he  _ could  _ look over - he brought it to distract him during these long pauses in between business, after all - but he’s too busy wondering if his regular will show up. His regular being the striking, blessed man who comes in every weekday at noon, messy-haired but bright eyed, a perpetual blush high on his cheeks whenever he comes in: Katsuki Yuuri, a resident dance major who has a taste for chocolate-dipped vanilla swirls, one of the few items on their menu that Victor hated making with a passion - up until the dancing angel of his dreams decided he liked the slightly-lopsided cone Victor had given him and thanked him with a smile.

 

“He usually isn’t this late, though,” Victor says, because it’s true. Five to ten minutes is normal, anything else beyond that range is an oddity Victor has never personally experienced before, and one he never wants to. Except he is now, because it’s half an hour past and Yuuri still isn’t here. His shoulders slump. “Maybe he’s too busy to come.”

 

“He  _ does  _ come every day,” Mila reasons. “You said he danced, too, so maybe he’s just trying to watch what he eats? There isn’t much we offer in the health department, to be honest, other than water cups.”

 

“What if he never comes back?” Victor asks, and he can see it now. Long hours without Yuuri to light up his day just by gracing him with his presence, or speaking to him, or flushing deep whenever Victor flirts like the unashamed man he is. He stares down at their counter. There’s a stain from when a customer spilled their milkshake getting it. It seems like a vague, obtuse metaphor of his life: nearly perfect, but absent of the shine that is Katsuki Yuuri. Abruptly, he feels like Georgi, who’s notorious for waxing poetic about his (ex-)girlfriends.

 

Mila has the nerve to laugh at him. “With the ridiculous deals you give him?” she wipes the corner of one eye. “Even if he was on a diet, I don’t think he’d just  _ stop.  _ You nearly offered him the entire shop last time he came.”

 

“Did you not  _ see  _ the way he looked, Mila?”

 

“Delicious,” Mila immediately replies.

 

“Exactly! He walked in here looking like a sex god, and I know it was probably because of dance practice, but I’m but a man, Mila- “

 

“Um.” Victor clicks his jaw shut so hard he’s sure Mila heard it, if her smirk is anything to go by. His eyes snap over to where Katsuki Yuuri is standing on the other side, red in the face. He looks up at Victor, then averts his gaze. “... I’d like to order please?”

 

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaims. He straightens and fixes Yuuri with his best smile. “What would you like today? We have a special going on - “ At his side, Mila covers a snort as a furious fit of coughs and excuses herself to the back room, where she’ll likely laugh unrepentantly “ - so you can get two cones for the price of one!”

 

Yuuri seems to fluster at that, though Victor has no idea why, but he tells him his order - his usual chocolate-dipped vanilla swirl, and another cone of cookies and cream topped with rainbow sprinkles - and Victor takes care to give him a generous serving of vanilla before going through the arduous task of dipping it into the chocolate. The ice cream doesn’t fall into it, and Victor thanks every god and deity he knows for letting him present Yuuri with a perfect cone. 

 

Yuuri gives him a wide, bright-eyed smile. “Thank you,” he says, and Victor hurriedly turns away before he drops everything to stare at Yuuri licking his treat. He finishes the second cone and hands it to Yuuri, who already has a ten-dollar bill out. He takes the colorful cone and gives Victor the sweetest look he’s ever seen in his life. “Keep the change.”

 

“Okay,” Victor breathes, and Yuuri is out the door, red-tipped ears peeking out from his hair as he hurries away.

 

“Mila,” Victor says when she comes back out, flushed and breathless from her laughing session. “I think I might be in love.”

 

Mila looks at him, seconds away from laughing again. “You only realized that now?”

 

 

* * *

 

“I  _ told  _ you he has the hots for you!” Phichit exclaims the moment Yuuri walks back to the studio with two ice cream cones from the quaint shop just down the street. “Yuuri, he gives you  _ free ice cream _ every time you show up! If that isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is.”

 

Yuuri shoves Phichit’s cone at him, flushing. “It was just a special they had today,” he explains, moving his cone from one hand to the other as he pulls off his coat. He shoots Phichit a look. “It doesn’t mean the nice ice cream server likes me.”

 

“The hot-as-hell, sex-on-legs ice cream server who’s extremely nice to you, you mean,” Phichit corrects. He licks his ice cream, and some sprinkles miss his lips and fall into his lap. He frowns. “Thanks for the free ice cream, but why’d you get sprinkles? You know I usually don’t get toppings.”

 

Pressing his lips together, Yuuri looks away, tries to hide behind his cone. Because Phichit is his best friend, he notices the nervous gesture and grins.

 

“Yuuri?” he asks. “Do you want to tell me something?”

 

“No!”

 

“Really,” Phichit says, and he leans back, licking at his sprinkle-covered cookies and cream ice cream, the sugar as sweet as the information he’s about to pull from Yuuri. It won’t be long before Yuuri spills; he always does whenever Phichit gives him the expectant silent treatment, the one that plucks at Yuuri’s nerves because he knows that Phichit knows something is going on.

 

His patience is rewarded when Yuuri eventually blurts out: “He was talking about me when I walked in.” He pauses, stares at his ice cream, then adds: “I think.”

 

“You think?” Phichit prods.

 

“He was talking about dance practice, so it could have been anyone,” Yuuri explains, and then looks relieved at his reasoning. “He probably wasn’t talking about me.”

 

“I’m pretty sure he was talking about you,” Phichit tells him. “It’s not like a lot of dance majors go to Yakov’s, since most of them go to the place by the Fine Arts building, which is a lot closer to us, but they don’t offer ridiculous deals to hot dance majors named Katsuki Yuuri.”

 

“He doesn’t- “

 

“He does,” Phichit cuts in before Yuuri can deny the facts - and Phichit’s extensive experimenting - again. He finishes off his cone and smiles. “Face it, Yuuri. You’ve got yourself an Ice Daddy.” When Yuuri doesn’t say anything, focusing on his ice cream even as his flush spreads to his ears, Phichit asks, “What’d he say, when he was talking about you?”

 

When Yuuri’s blush gets darker, Phichit’s smile curls more at the corners. He waits, and Yuuri delivers.

 

“He said I -  _ whoever  _ he was talking about - “ he corrects, almost violently “ - looked like a sex god. So. Definitely not me.”

 

Phichit would laugh if he weren’t Yuuri’s friend, but because he’s his best friend, he teases, “Were you so embarrassed that you forgot my order?”

 

“No!” Yuuri says defensively, which sounds like a clear,  _ Yes _ , to Phichit’s ears.

 

“What if he  _ was  _ talking about you?” Phichit asks. “The feelings would be mutual, then!”

 

“He wasn’t, so it doesn’t matter.” Yuuri says, then bites down on his cone with a loud crunch, and Phichit knows this conversation is over. For now. Because Phichit is Yuuri’s best friend, and best friends make sure their talented, introverted best friend will get their happy ending with the cute ice cream server they’re crushing on. 

 

“I guess it doesn’t,” Phichit says.

 

* * *

 

There’s a difference between Victor who knows he’s in love and Victor who doesn’t: it’s subtlety.

 

“Not like you had much of it in the first place,” Yuri mutters as Victor contemplates his thoughts out loud. Victor sends him a chillingly bright smile, and Yuri clicks his tongue and goes back to carefully making a milkshake without spilling. That’s nigh impossible, but Victor will let him learn from his mistakes.

 

From beside him, Georgi sighs. “Young love.”

 

“He’s older than you- “ Yuri starts to say, but Georgi cuts him off.

 

“ _ Young love _ ,” Georgi says more forcefully this time, his nostalgic smile morphing into something equally as chilling as Victor’s.

 

Yuri gapes at him, parts disgusted and parts shocked, then sputters as the milkshake splatters everywhere. “Fuck!” Victor will pretend he didn’t hear him say. Ignorance is bliss, after all. Yuri tries to block the spray with an arm, the other waving around trying to turn off the machine. “Someone turn this piece of- “ The machine spits out even more milkshake with a loud, metallic grind, as if to filter out Yuri’s words. “Someone turn it off!”

 

Because Victor is the manager, and out of the goodness of his heart, he turns to help as Georgi takes over the register. He thinks he sees Georgi’s phone out as he comes up beside Yuri, trying to avoid the spray of strawberry milkshake, but before he can say anything along the lines of,  _ Keep this off Instagram,  _ a glob of milkshake strikes him square in the chest, the remnants splattering against his chin and arms.

 

“God da- “ Victor slams down on the switch before the machine can throw up whatever concoction it was brewing to spew into Yuri’s potty mouth. Yuri all but collapses against the counter. “Never again.”

 

“Unfortunately, that’s up to the customer, not you,” Victor tells him, and Yuri glares at him with all the aggression of a soaked kitten. 

 

He glances over his shoulder when he hears Georgi speaking to someone, and it turns out to be the man who ordered the milkshake in the first place. He’s looking with some concern between he, Yuri, and the devil-incarnate machine whirring ominously between them. Victor wipes off most of the milkshake and steps over to them with a winning smile to explain the situation, and to apologize for the wait, and to ask if he’d like something else on the house because the milkshake machine has gone out of order. The situation is resolved easily enough, and Victor breathes out a sigh when the shop becomes blessedly quiet.

 

“Go wash up the best you can,” Victor says to Yuri, who’s grimacing at the milkshake coating his arms. He offers a half-smile. “Take as long as you want. It isn’t a busy day today.”

 

Yuri looks over to the clock hanging on the wall. “Might as well go home and take a shower,” he says, lips pulling thin at the time. He shrugs, though, and says, “I’ll be in the bathroom for a few minutes, then.”

 

“Have fun,” Victor says, cheery as can be even with milkshake drying sticky and pink on his skin. Yuri makes a face and stalks away.

 

“You’re not washing up?” Georgi asks.

 

Victor shoots him a wry smile. “I need to clean up this - “ He waves at the milkshake splattered all over the machine and the counter, dripping into a puddle on the floor “ - before customers come in and think we’re unsanitary.”

 

Georgi chuckles. “Want help?”

 

“It’s fine,” Victor says, waving him off. “Go back to texting Anya. I can clean this up.”

 

“If you say so,” Georgi says, pulling out his phone and doing as Victor told him to with a besotted smile.

 

Once he gets into it, it doesn’t take long for Victor to clean up most of the mess, though it does leave him feeling more sticky than how he started. He’s just putting away the mop, finally finished with erasing the pink puddle from the floor, when the bell jingles cheerily.

 

“Welcome to Yakov’s!” he and Georgi automatically call out - a new rule Yakov instated in order to teach his employees better manners, especially Yuri, who greets customers with either a faint scowl or a deep scowl, and a voice that ranges from five to ten on the restrained anger scale.

 

Black hair, blue-rimmed glasses, and Victor feels the polite smile on his face strain. He feels, all at once, like a mess. Even so, because Victor is desperate, he taps Georgi on the shoulder and says, “I’ll take him.”

 

Georgi blinks at him, moves to point out the obvious - that Victor looks like a wreck - but Victor just smiles at him, then tilts his head to the back room. After a short moment of hesitation, Georgi goes, casting many glances over his shoulder at Victor.

 

“Yuuri,” Victor says when Yuuri steps before the counter. “Would you like to try our banana split? It’ll be on the house, today.”

 

Yuuri starts at that.  “Oh, um,” he worries his lips - and isn’t that enchanting? Victor kind of wants to kiss him. “That’ll be nice. I’ll take the banana split, but if you don’t mind me asking, what- ah, what happened?”

 

He points at his neck, where Victor knows there is dried milkshake, and smiles hesitantly.

 

Victor adores this man. “Our milkshake machine doesn't seem to like Yuri’s - our new recruit - language.” He smiles. “I got caught in the crossfire, unfortunately.”

 

“You're not going to wash up?”

 

“And miss my favorite customer?” Victor says, placing a hand over his chest. Yuuri blushes, and it makes the fact that Victor will probably have to lather and rinse his skin approximately ten times once he gets home better. “Not on my life.”

 

Yuuri’s laugh is a beautiful thing. Victor can listen to it for forever if Yuuri will let him. “I'm glad. You're… You're my favorite server, Victor.” Victor blinks, startled. Yuuri is looking at him with flushed cheeks and a hesitant smile, and Victor’s heart feels too big for his chest.

 

“Oh my god,” Yuri Plisetsky groans from behind him, already back from his quick wash down, but Victor is too distracted by Yuuri's eyes and his lips and his everything to pay him any mind. “He’s flirting  _ back _ .”

 

Yuuri’s eyes widen, and the flush on his cheeks morphs into something red-hot. Victor wants to reach out and- 

 

“What are you doing?” Yuuri all but screeches, and Victor startles back into awareness. His hand is on Yuuri’s cheek, and- oh  _ god _ , his hand is on Yuuri’s cheek. He yanks the traitorous thing back, shoves it into his pocket in the smoothest move he can muster, and shoots Yuuri his most charming smile.

 

“I was wondering if it was as hot as it looked,” Victor says, unashamed. Yuuri gapes at him, the red deepening into scarlet.

 

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” Yuri groans as he slams a banana split down onto the counter and shoots them both a scalding glare. “Just  _ do  _ something already! One of you! I don’t get paid enough to listen to him - “ he jabs a finger at Victor “ - flirt with you and offer ridiculous  _ specials  _ \- “ he spits the word out like it’s disgusting “ - every time you walk in, or listen to him daydream about your hair, or your eyes, or your  _ thighs _ .” He shoves the banana split between them, scowling, then whirls away with a huff to stomp to the back room. “I’m not coming out until you two  _ talk _ .”

 

The door shuts with a resounding slam. Victor, who’s known for being infallible and indifferent to any and all chaos around him, looks to Yuuri, who’s staring at him with something like surprise in his eyes.

 

Before Victor can say anything, though, like  _ Sorry, don’t mind him _ , or  _ Should I add a chocolate-dipped vanilla swirl to your order for your troubles? _ , or even  _ I wish he hadn’t but Yuri was telling the truth, and I do, in fact, daydream about your thighs _ , Yuuri blurts out, “You were lying about the specials?”

 

Blinking - because out of everything Yuri blurted into the open, he didn’t expect Yuuri to fixate on  _ that _ \- Victor manages to reply, “Yes?”

 

Yuuri looks even more taken aback now. He looks at the banana split sitting between them. “Then that…?”

 

“Yes,” Victor says.

 

“Oh,” Yuuri quietly says, then he buries his face into his hands and groans, “I’m such an idiot.”

 

“To be fair,” Victor ventures, and Yuuri glances up at him from between his fingers, “it wasn’t that obvious.”

 

“You gave me free ice cream for almost three months!”

 

Victor pulls his lips into a half-smile. “When you put it like that…”

 

Yuuri buries his face back into his hands, and Victor presses his lips together, glances around the - thankfully - empty shop. “Yuri was telling the truth, if it makes this any better,” Victor says, and he tries his best to give Yuuri a full smile when he looks at him again. “I  _ was  _ flirting with you even though it wasn’t as obvious as I thought, and I do think about you a lot, because I like you. The free ice cream was just to get you to come back.”

 

There’s a moment of stunned silence after Victor’s impromptu confession before Yuuri pulls his hands away and straightens his back, digging through his pockets to pull out a startling long roll of paper. 

 

“I… My friend - Phichit, he comes here sometimes - made me a step-by-step guide on how to ask you out,” Yuuri confesses, face bright red as he shows Victor the list. There are alternative routes to take depending on Victor’s responses and Yuuri’s own comfort level, and for a moment Victor is amazed. He also wants to thank Phichit for putting in the obvious effort. 

 

“Wow,” Victor says, because he’s genuinely impressed. Yuuri seems to relax at that. When he glances over at Yuuri, he catches him watching with bright eyes. Victor smiles. “Should we put it to use, then? It seems like such a waste after all the work put into it.”

 

Yuuri just gapes at him. Victor scans the list, eyes lighting up when he reads Item #5 on _Alternative Route:_ _Let Your Thirst Do All the Talking_. He points at it and beams at Yuuri. “Let’s do this one!”

 

Yuuri takes one look at it and turns scarlet. He yanks the list away. “No, no, no! Just ignore the list! It’s fine! Phichit won’t mind at all!”

 

“Should I start instead?” Victor asks anyway. He pastes on his most flirtatious look, taking one of Yuuri’s hands into his. “Yuuri, if you were an ice cream- “

 

“V- Victor! No!” Yuuri exclaims, and he clamps his free hand over Victor’s smiling lips, stifling his laugh. There’s the barest trace of a smile on Yuuri’s lips, and he’s so  _ everything _ . Victor just wants to pull him into his arms and keep him there. “We can just… ask each other out? Like normal people?”

 

Victor blinks.

 

Yuuri presses his lips together, pulls his hand away from Victor’s mouth to cradle his cheek. “Like,” he starts off carefully, looking straight at Victor. “Victor, I kind of really like you, and I’ve been breaking my diet every day just to see you. I  _ still  _ want to see you, but Coach Celestino will have my head if I buy another cone of ice cream before the semester is over, so.” Victor’s breath catches in his throat. “Will you go out with me?”

 

Victor’s lips pull into a heart-shaped smile. “Of course,” he says, and tugs Yuuri close to kiss him.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I honestly loved all three prompts, but this one was so fluffy I couldn't leave it alone? I hoped you enjoyed reading it!
> 
> Fun fact: the title's the continuation of Item #5, where Phichit doodled ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ) at the end.


End file.
